Until Death Read Online Free PDF

strangled groan, every sinew in his neck standing to attention. Kelly knew then that Christos, far from being a man who couldn’t control his violence, was someone far worse: a man who could choose exactly when to maim and when to stop. He had lowered his hand. He had great reserves of self-control – and he had let her know it then.
    ‘When you’ve got money, lots of people want to take it from you,’ Christos said now.
    ‘Do they?’ Georgie looked genuinely puzzled. ‘There’s only one group who can legitimately take money from your business and that’s Revenue and Customs. That’s us. If anyone else is trying to take your money it’s a matter for the police and they will help you.’
    Christos smiled, looking incredulous. He had a very good smile and Kelly wondered how Georgie would react to it. ‘How long have you been doing this job?’
    ‘Not long, but I intend to do it for many years.’ Georgie’s voice was flat London with hints of Essex in it. She had no wedding ring, Kelly noticed, and was wearing lace-up brogues and black trousers with a turn-up. She had an easy grace to her movements and Kelly figured she was sporty, but she looked too urban to be someone who strode across a moor in walking boots, too substantial and bold to be a dancer.
    ‘If someone your age is leading this investigation it’s obviously not an important case. I’ve got nothing to worry about.’
    Georgie remained calm. ‘We need to get into the office. Do you have the key, Mr Malamatos?’
    Christos was still in his bathrobe, his legs wide apart, a pair of calves as thick as Henry VIII’s protruding from the bottom.
    ‘I’ve got it here. I’ve got nothing to hide.’ Christos’s bathrobe was loosely tied at his waist. He put his hand in its deep pocket and as he did so the cord undid itself and his towelling robe fell open. Kelly felt the visitors tense to waxwork dummies. ‘Oh, look at that,’ Christos casually said. Georgie and Mo were treated to a full frontal view of her husband, his dick hanging thick and heavy. Georgie looked like she wouldn’t react, then Kelly saw a deep blush start at the woman’s neck and spread over her cheeks. Christos was proud of his big cock and he was trying to rile and humiliate the young woman with it. A moment later, Christos retied the bathrobe. He pulled the office key from his pocket and held it up, his eyes never leaving Georgie’s face.
    Georgie had to step towards him to get the key, her cheeks aflame. ‘After you, sir.’ Her voice was neutral, those telltale cheeks the only giveaway that he had riled her. Christos wasn’t smiling now, his face was hard. He left the room abruptly and Georgie turned to Kelly. Their eyes met and for a glorious second Kelly hoped that this young girl could be her way out – before despair rushed back in and she discounted the idea.
    They left Mo searching the studio and walked to the office. Christos opened the door and entered with Georgie, who instructed two men to look through it. Kelly watched from the corridor. She had rarely been in this room. It was Christos’s private space, where he retreated for certain phone calls, occasionally where male visitors with three-day stubble or the dark, tanned skin of the newly arrived from foreign climes came. The walls were lined with shelving containing photographs of dead family members and idyllic, isolated beaches of Medea’s homeland, and a few books. Facing the door was a large, dark wooden desk, empty except for a second phone line, a computer and a pen in a holder. The room smelled faintly of the furniture polish Medea used to buff the surfaces to a sterile shine. At right angles to the desk sat a green filing cabinet. Christos unlocked the cabinet and an officer slid out the top drawer.
    The passports were in the cabinet.
    She’d noticed, only once, about seven months ago. They’d come home from a holiday in Greece. The plane had been delayed and they were all tired and as she hurried